


'cause i'm a fool for love

by cshmr



Category: Hatchetfield Universe - Team StarKid
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cheesy, F/M, Fluff, Fuck Sam, I'm Bad At Tagging, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, he's just a simp, they deserve to be Soft, this is a mess but i liked it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cshmr/pseuds/cshmr
Summary: every six months, ccrp goes on an off-campus trip.even though no one's allowed to pick their rooms, it normally works out well for charlotte.until the time it doesn't~~~title form lord huron's fool for love
Relationships: Charlotte/Ted Spankoffski
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	'cause i'm a fool for love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [venusplease](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusplease/gifts).



> wrote this for venus's birthday!! i love you so much bro, hope you had an absolutely banging day <3

Every six months, Mr Davidson insists on an off-campus trip. “Good for bonding and building a sense of community,” he always says. It’s essentially an excuse for most of CCRP to get a couple of days away from home, at a cheap motel near a mediocre beach.

For Charlotte, it means a few evenings talking to Olivia From Upstairs over shitty drinks in their motel room, the nights no less alone than they usually are.

It’s alright.

But Olivia From Upstairs moved away last spring, which leads to a bit of a dilemma. Namely, who she’s rooming with. It’s always organized by last name, alphabetical order, no gender split. Mr Davidson says it’s to be more inclusive of those who might not fit the binary - and while she’s all for that in theory, it certainly seems to be presenting a problem now.

Because underneath Charlotte Riley’s name, on the booking information email, is one she generally tries to avoid.

Theodore Spankoffski.

\---

“It’s not that I _hate_ him, or anything, I just- well, you know what he can be like.”

Bill nods furiously at that as Charlotte fiddles with her almost-empty mug, but Paul, surprisingly, does not. “Really? When was the last time you actually spoke to him?”

The trio’s quiet for a few moments as she thinks, and comes up empty. All the interactions the two have had recently are… mostly devoid of substance, really. Little more than a few flirty comments on his end, her standard reminders to him that she’s married. Not that Sam ever says anything like Ted does to her, but that’s beside the point. She shrugs.

“Exactly. He’s not that bad when you get to know him. He’s just… slightly disagreeable sometimes, that’s all.”

Charlotte’s not exactly sure how much she agrees with that - he’s crude and seems to have absolutely no filter, for starters. But the attention’s nice, at least. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, you’ll be fine. Ted’s fine.” A sad excuse for a reassurance, she figures - and Bill seems to feel the same, scoffing as he turns to face Paul.

“He gave Alice alcohol at last year’s Christmas party, don’t think I’ve forgotten that! He’s irresponsible, rude and reckless.”

“It was one plastic cup of mulled wine, I’m sure Alice was fine. I overheard her ask him, anyway.”

“He still should’ve asked me first! It’s a matter of respect, and he clearly has none for me!”

“That’s not the point, we weren’t talking about the party-”

“Oh, we’re talking about it now! It was-”

She stands up silently as the two bicker, dumping the now-freezing coffee down the sink, quickly washing out the mug before leaving it to dry in the draining rack. She’s halfway out the break room door when the two turn to her, finally noticing that she’s gotten up.

“Back to work already?”

She nods. “Lots to do.” An excuse, more than anything.

“Right. Well, I’m sure everything with Ted will be fine,” Bill says, sounding like he doesn’t believe a word he’s saying.

She shrugs casually. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. Sam wouldn’t want me going if he knew, so that’s that.” The two men share a glance. “What?”

They trade another look, and after a couple of seconds, Paul hesitantly pipes up. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t. But if you’re just worried about Sam not liking it-”

“Sam is my _husband._ If he wants to know, I’ll tell him.”

Another pause. “When’s the last time he ever told you about who he’s roomed with on his work trips?”

She opens her mouth defiantly to say that it was two months ago - the last time he went on a trip. But he hadn’t said who he was with, had he? Of course, she hadn’t asked - but then again, she always tells him who she’s sharing with without any thought. She hadn’t even noticed him not doing the same.

As much as she doesn’t want to admit it, it’s a solid point. But Paul doesn’t need to know she thinks that.

“I- it’s not- look, I’m a grown woman, I can make my own choices. And if I don’t want to deal with the- the _nightmare_ that is rooming with Ted for three nights, then that’s my decision!”

Nightmare is too strong of a word, she realises, as soon as it’s out her mouth. But there’s no taking it back, so she storms out the break room right after she finishes speaking, leaving Bill and Paul in her wake.

She slumps down in her chair, frantically clicking the mouse to turn her computer screen on again. It takes her a few seconds to notice the takeaway cup lying on the edge of the desk, the one that wasn’t there before. It’s next to a scrap of paper - a couple of sentences, hastily scrawled. She grabs it, recognizing the writing immediately.

_saw you looked stressed today, so i got this from beanies when i went. sorry you have to deal with me for the weekend_

He didn’t bother with his name at the end, but did add a winking face. And sure, that part’s slightly obnoxious, but the unprompted gesture makes her smile nonetheless.

The drink’s still hot, she notices. That’s better than the break room coffee already. She’s pleasantly surprised when she takes a sip - there’s both milk and sugar in it, almost how she likes it. Definitely not sweet enough for her taste, but far closer to her actual order than she would’ve expected from Ted.

She looks around to thank him, but he’s nowhere to be seen. They can talk later, then, she figures. She returns to the screen with a small smile on her face, her mind already made up about one thing, at least.

Maybe the trip won’t be so bad after all.

\---

The week passes as all do, except this time, the trip is constantly looming over Charlotte’s head.

She decides to tell Sam about it on Wednesday. But by the time he shows up at their house in the early hours of Thursday morning, he cuts her off, saying he doesn’t care what she’s doing over the weekend - he’s got a work trip, too. His, unlike hers, has not been in the calendar in the kitchen for a couple of months. She ignores that fact.

He asks who she’s rooming with. She says Olivia From Upstairs.

And that’s that.

By the time Friday rolls around, she’s almost excited. There’s got to be some reason Paul said that about Ted, right? He must have some redeeming features, beyond the obvious charm that works on her more often than she’d like to admit. And hopefully, she’ll get to see them first hand.

Fortunately - or maybe unfortunately, she’s not sure - she gets a seat by herself when everyone in CCRP pours onto the buses taking them to the motel. She spends the four-hour drive staring out the window as the houses turn to trees turn to highways, as the sun starts to set in the afternoon sky, fiddling with the frayed edges of her sweater.

_Everything’s going to be okay._

She’s seen the motel rooms before. There’s plenty of space between the two beds - and if worst really comes to worst, she can convince Sylvia and Rosaline to let her sleep on the couch in their room. As lumpy as the couches are, it’s a decent enough last resort.

As she frets, she doesn’t notice the bus pull up in the familiar car park, only realising as Paul taps her on the shoulder on his way out. She startles to attention and, after everyone else has filed out, grabs her bags from the seat next to her and hops off the bus.

When she gets to the check-in desk, she’s informed that Mr Spankoffski has already taken both keys for room 102.

The employee calls her “Mrs Spankoffski”. Charlotte doesn’t bother to correct her as she rushes upstairs.

The door to 102 is slightly ajar when she approaches, with the faint noise of a faucet running coming from the inside. The beds at the Mayberry are rarely comfortable, but right now, all she wants to do is collapse in a heap onto one of them and ignore her present company.

Said company leaves the small bathroom as she pushes the room door open with a creak, nodding to her as he dries his hands on his pants. She nods back, dropping her bags down and closing the door behind her.

Neither says anything for a few moments. Ted watches her expectantly, as though waiting for her to talk first. After ten seconds or so, she’s had enough. “What?”

“Oh, you haven’t seen?”

Her brow furrows. “Haven’t seen what?” she asks as she steps further into the room, not waiting for an answer. But she knows what he means the second she takes a good look around, and she stops in her tracks.

Where she expects to see two twin beds, she doesn’t.

Instead, there’s one queen bed.

And the small, lumpy couch.

He doesn’t seem to notice the worry and shock both etched on her face, how her breath catches momentarily in her throat. “Yeah. But, really, I’m fine sharing if-”

“No.” Her voice is a lot smaller than she had intended it, her gaze still focused on the bed.

“Huh? Can’t hear you.”

“I said no.”

He scoffs. “Look, I’m not gonna make you _do_ anything. But we’re both adults, I’m sure we can-”

She drags her gaze away from the bed, turning to face him. “I _can’t_ , Ted! I- I have a husband, I can’t just share a bed with someone else! It’s not happening.”

She reflexively takes a step back after she closes her mouth. Call it intuition, maybe, or learning from experience. But he doesn’t immediately yell as she had expected, doesn’t make any move toward her. He just stays where he is for a few seconds, quiet. Thinking.

“Okay. If you’re so worried about your shitty husband, I’ll take the couch. Happy?”

Oh. Definitely _not_ what she was expecting to hear. She’s so taken aback that she doesn’t even dispute his comment about Sam - merely nods, a note of relief in her voice. “Thank you.”

“Sure. ‘s no problem,” he replies, in a tone of voice that suggests it is very much a problem. But he offered, after all - and if she gives him even a small bit of leeway, she’s sure he’ll take even more than she has to give. 

So she says nothing, and there’s another pause, this one somehow even more awkward. “Uh, were you thinking of getting something to eat? ‘cause I’m not really hungry.” 

“Nah, me neither. I just want to crash, to be honest.” 

“Me too, heh. It’s been a really long day.” 

At that, he groans, slumping down to sit on the couch. “Fucking tell me about it. I had to sit next to Davidson on the way here, d’you know how much stupid shit he talks about? I swear, he didn’t shut up the entire time.” 

She raises an eyebrow with a smile. “Really? Do tell.”

\--- 

It’s weird, seeing Ted like this. Curled up uncomfortably on the too-small couch, in the pyjama set that he _insists_ he only brought with him because he had nothing else clean. It’s the feeling of bumping into a teacher outside of school, almost - having had no interactions outside of work hours before, it’s foreign to see. But not necessarily in a bad way. 

The two had spoken a bit as they had gotten ready to sleep. Nothing much - only just beyond small talk, really. But it was definitely pleasant, and definitely a lot more so than she had expected from Ted. 

With one hand poised to turn off the bedside lamp, she glances to him once more. Even with the pillows and spare blanket, he can’t be comfortable. The reminder that he’s doing it for her comes to mind once more, and she once more pushes it away. It’s nothing worth thinking about. 

She flicks off the light, her hand quickly retreating under the covers as she does so. Considering it’s summer, it’s not warm. There’s a few moments with only the crickets’s calls outside between them before she speaks up. “Goodnight, Ted.” 

“Night, Charlotte. Sleep well.” 

She doesn’t. It’s not the incessant chirping from outside; if anything, that gives her something to focus on as she forces herself to drift off. It’s not the emptiness of the bed - she’s well used to that. 

It’s that she doesn’t hear his breathing slow from across the room, she notices him shift every few minutes. No matter what Ted does, it seems like he won’t get much sleep on the couch. 

She can’t tell how long it’s been; three minutes, maybe, or three hours. But she eventually pipes up. “Ted?” 

“Mhm?” 

Definitely not asleep, then. She takes a breath, preparing herself to speak again. “I- do- d’you maybe want to share the bed? You sound uncomfy over there.” 

There’s noise on the other end of the room as he seems to shift, likely standing up to make his way across to her. “You sure?” 

“Under three conditions.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Okay. You can’t hog the sheets-” 

“Got it.” 

“-don’t wake me up if it’s not an emergency-” 

“Yep.” 

“And don’t try anything. Nothing at all, got it?” 

There’s a pause after the last one, the room suddenly quiet, until she feels the old mattress sink under his weight as he clambers onto the other side of the bed. 

“Dunno if I can promise that one.” She can almost see the smirk on his face as he talks. 

“I- I have a husband. A husband that I love, and- and I trust, and who loves and trusts me. And I’m not going to insult him by… doing anything with you.” He’s silent. “What?” 

“Charlotte, for someone who says their husband trusts them, you sure are worried about what he’d think of us having to share a bed.” 

She can feel a flush rise on her cheeks, even in the dark. How _dare_ he insinuate that! Sam might get angry at first if he knew, but only out of love. She could explain it to him, if he asked, and he would listen. 

She doesn’t let herself linger on the possibility that he would stay angry - or the even worse one of him not caring at all. She merely stays silent for a few seconds, thinking of a way to change the subject. “Have- have you got the pillows?” 

He sighs. “Yep, right here.” 

“Good. And the-” 

“Yes, and the blanket.” Both are quiet for a few seconds as Ted shifts, obviously trying to get comfortable. “Listen, I’ll stick to my side if you’re so worried about it, okay?” 

She nods before realising he can’t see her. “Thanks.” 

“Sure. G’night.” 

“Night.” 

She lets her head fall back onto the pillow. It’s been a while since she’s had someone to say goodnight to who’ll say it back, someone who’s falling asleep in tandem with her. And even though he’s on the other end of the bed, nowhere near her, she suddenly feels a lot less alone. 

Within half an hour, she’s asleep. 

\---

The morning is surprisingly warm, considering the cool of the night before. The symphony of crickets seem to have quieted down, replaced by muffled chatter from the other side of the wall as their neighbours wake too. Mostly, though, Charlotte’s comfortable - a lot more so than she normally is at the Mayberry. Very unfamiliarly so. And after a minute or two, she figures out why. 

It seems, despite going to sleep on opposite ends of the bed, both she and Ted shifted to the middle. As well as that, somehow, they moved to their current position - pulled in close together, her head resting on his chest, rising and falling with his breaths. 

Even though it’s been a while since she’s had anyone’s arms around her in bed, she still distinctly remembers how it feels - the warmth, the comfort, the safety.

And that’s exactly what’s happening now, she knows for sure. She’s in a bed, with a man who’s not her husband, cuddling him. 

Worst of all, she likes it. 

After all, it’s been so long. And Ted’s arms are surprisingly gentle. She _should_ move away, definitely, but she’s not particularly inclined to. Even though he likely hadn’t meant to do so, the small act of care is something she needed, something she had craved more than she ever could have known. 

Even though Ted doesn’t care about her, if she closes her eyes tight enough, she can convince herself he does. 

And before she knows it, she’s crying, silently, tears staining his t-shirt as she lets her head sink back onto his chest. Just for a moment, just until he wakes up and she has to say she’s fine. 

She’s not. But she’s used to pretending she is. 

How pathetic she must be, though, to cry over such a small act of intimacy. And not crying for her husband, the man who’s decidedly _not_ the one she’s clinging to; but for herself. For the affection she’s starved of, she longs for. 

But when Ted wakes up, he’ll- 

“Charlotte?” 

Fuck. 

She loosens her grip, tries to pull away from him. He lets her move away easily, yet doesn’t do so himself. “I- I’m sorry, I don’t-” 

“Hey, don’t be sorry. You’re okay." 

She shakes her head, and his arms fall to the bed as she props herself up. She’s very much _not_ okay - she was fine with too little, with Sam coming home late, with cold beds that feel far too big. But after the small moment, she wants more, needs more. And she knows she won’t get it again. “No, I- I’m done, sorry. You shouldn’t- shouldn’t have to deal with this.” 

He locks gazes with her for a moment, his eyes surprisingly kind. “Look, it was a mistake, okay? I won’t tell anyone, it’ll be alright. But if you need to cry, then you can. And I’ll leave if you want.” 

She shakes her head again - she doesn’t deserve to cry, and she doesn’t want him to leave. So he stays as he is, silent, while she looks away. And after a few minutes, her sobs have quieted to merely a sniffle here and there. She wipes her eyes once more before turning to face him again. “Sorry.” 

He smiles slightly, gently. “It’s no problem, really. But, look, let’s get dressed, ‘kay? You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten.” 

Somehow, Charlotte only doubts that a little. So she nods, picking herself up and slowly heading towards her bags. It’s silent for a few minutes, but she breaks it, and the two eventually start talking once more. They head down to the breakfast hall together but when Bill beckons Charlotte over, she instinctively goes to him, and Ted goes elsewhere. She dodges Bill’s question about how she had slept - she definitely doesn’t want to admit she woke up feeling a lot better than she has in a while. So she manages to find a way to switch the subject to Alice, and that keeps him occupied until the meal ends and they’re split off into groups.  
She doesn’t see Ted for the rest of the morning. They meet once more in the afternoon, though, for a company tug-of-war competition. Definitely a horrible idea, Charlotte figures, but not one she has any say in. And sure, Ted laughs when she inevitably falls on her back for what feels like the dozenth time. But he’s also the only person who helps her back up. 

All in all, the day is okay. But it’s not the day she’s been dreading. 

At least the room’s empty when she goes in to shower, she figures. But Ted’s back by the time she emerges, as she had expected, already changed. He’s perched on the couch, and she raises an eyebrow as she heads to half-sit, half-collapse on her side of the bed. “You wanna sleep there tonight?” 

“Not really. But I know you probably want me to.” He shrugs. 

“I don’t- why would you think that?” 

“Well, after what happened in the morning…” He trails off somewhat awkwardly, and after a beat it makes sense to her. 

“No, no!” she rushes to say. “It wasn’t because of you, I- well, it sort of was, but it…” A breath. “It was okay. And I- I want you to be comfy.” It was much more than okay, if she’s being honest with herself. But rarely is, and now is not one of the times where she can let herself be. 

“Y’sure?” 

She nods, hoping he won’t ask again. It’s hard for her to believe her own actions, almost impossible. She’s inviting a man who isn’t her husband into bed with her - and yes, nothing’s going to happen, but that doesn’t make it less wrong, less sinful. Even the mere thought of it is enough to make her skin crawl, let alone actively encouraging it. 

But she’s not asking for much, a small part of herself reminds the rest. All she wants is someone beside her - and by definition, that’s what her husband should be. And he’s not. So if Ted were to fill that space, just for a night or two more, what’s wrong with that? Nothing will come of it, either way. 

At least, that’s what she tells herself. 

He seems to understand the intention behind the nod, though, so he joins her on the other side of the bed without a word, flicking off the light switch as he passes it. The rustling of sheets as he lies down, the mattress sinking slightly under his weight - all the little things, things she’s had to teach herself to not be used to. Little things that mean a lot. 

But suddenly it’s the night before again, and she’s lying in the cold with only the crickets outside to listen to. Except last night, she had slept well, comfortably. And despite the sinfulness, the wrong, she wants that again. 

“Ted?” she hisses, cutting through the dark. 

A beat. “Mhm?” 

She swallows thickly. “Y’know last night? I- I liked that.” 

There’s another pause, and for a second, she’s worried she made a mistake. That he didn’t understand what she had meant, somehow. Or even worse - he had, and he’s going to deny her it anyway. 

But she eventually notices the covers shift as he rolls over to face her. And she soon feels arms around her again, strong, shielding her from the normal loneliness the dark brings. She has to hold herself back from melting into them, merely letting herself bury her face in the crook of his neck, put an arm over him in return. 

“Sorry,” she eventually mumbles. 

“Don’t be, you did nothing wrong.” That’s a lie, but it’s nice to hear nonetheless. “Sleep well.” 

She nods, vaguely, muttering the same back. And for once, she does. 

\--- 

The morning’s mostly the same, but this time without the unexpected shock and tears. Much preferable that way, she finds. This time, when she wakes up in Ted’s arms, she stays there peacefully until he himself starts to shift. And even though it’s quiet between them when the two eventually roll out of bed and get ready for the day, it’s nice. Maybe domestic, if she weren’t in a shitty motel room with someone who’s not her husband. 

But she is. So she refuses to dwell on it, sitting with Bill again over breakfast, and zoning out during the morning’s speeches and meetings. The afternoon, though, is the best part of the trip for most - free time, in which everyone crowds the too-small beach and has a mediocre barbeque lunch. 

It’s not bad. 

Charlotte’s sitting alone on a rocky outcrop that juts slightly into the lake, her sandals lying a few feet away as she dips her toes into the water. It’s quite warm, especially considering the chill of the recent nights. With her second, or maybe third, lukewarm beer in hand, watching the clusters of people from afar, she’s mostly able to ignore her worries. 

Until her worries manifest in the form of the exact person she’s been trying to avoid as he sits down next to her uninvited, a paper plate with a burger in hand. “Didn’t see you get any lunch.” 

After a moment, she turns her head. “Not hungry.” 

He sets the plate down in her lap anyway. “You still gotta eat.” 

She sighs, but makes no move to pick up the burger. “Yeah, I know. Thanks.” 

“No problem.” The two sit quietly, both watching a gaggle of younger employees - interns, mostly - who are heading into the water with glee. “Y’know Melissa, Leah, that lot? Apparently they’re gonna go skinny dipping.” 

“Really?” she asks with a short laugh. “On a work trip?” 

“‘s what I heard, at least. Are you gonna join them?” 

“Me? Goodness, no.” 

He nudges her gently with his elbow. “C’mon, it could be fun.” 

She ignores him, squinting to look at the girls in the lake. They’re still fully clothed. “You sure they’re going to skinny dip?” 

“Eh, maybe they’re gonna strip off in the water.” 

At that, she turns back to study his face, taking a few seconds to do so. The corners of his mouth twitch, slightly. “You’re lying, aren’t you? You just want me to strip.” 

He grins. “You got me.” 

It’s her turn to nudge him, slightly harder than he had, as she gasps with indignance. As gross as the comment was, she can’t help the slight flush to her cheeks. “Ted, you're _awful!_ ” 

“Aw, come on, you love it.” 

She maybe does like it more than she’d admit, both to herself and out loud. “No, I don’t.” 

“You’ve never told me to stop.” 

“Yes, but I always remind you that I’m married.” 

“That’s not a no, and we both know it. You flirt back half the time, anyway.” 

It’s true - she does. On the lonlier days, maybe, or the ones when she’s feeling bolder. The days when she knows she can find better, craves better, almost believes she deserves better. “Still.” 

He rolls his eyes, somewhat fondly, smiling. “Still. You like it.” 

Maybe it’s the alcohol starting to work its way into her system. 

Maybe it’s the sudden urge to be closer to him that she had felt the night before. 

Or maybe she’s just sick of lying to herself. 

“Yeah. I do.” 

\--- 

It’s definitely a good thing no one’s looking their way, nobody throwing a glance in their direction as they all head back to their rooms. 

The pair stays longer, though, getting up for a moment to grab a couple more beers, watching the sun set from their small perch on the rocks. 

The colors fading through, softly. 

Most people bid the beach goodnight as it’s orange. A warning light, shining through the sky, a warning they both choose to ignore. 

A dark red’s next, almost purple. With only a couple other people in sight, he shuffles closer to her. Crimson. Passion, danger, lust. A signal to stop, blaring and obvious. They ignore it, too. 

It’s a good thing the beach is empty by the time the sky slips into navy. No one to see them get closer still, arms around each other, hands resting temptingly on waists. 

The sky suffocating in black is a relief. Because as long as no one had a chance to see it, as long as she herself barely saw his lips meeting hers, she can deny it ever happened. 

She can blame it on the beer - and she does as she breaks away, as his shadowed eyes ask questions she doesn’t have any answers to. And she does when she pulls him back in again, just once more, just a moment longer. And she will when she inevitably lingers on this moment in the future, berates herself for kissing him in the first place, or maybe for not doing so once more. 

Because, after all, he’s a good kisser. And she’s not sure when anyone will want to kiss her again. 

The two head up to their room in silence. But there’s no question if he’ll sleep in the bed tonight, and she falls asleep in his arms once more. 

She’ll regret it in the morning. For now, though, she’s perfectly content. 

\--- 

She’s awoken to Ted’s voice, softer than she would’ve imagined it ever being; to a finger gently prodding her in the side. “Gotta wake up, Charlotte, c’mon. Going back today.” 

She makes a vague noise in protest, but opens her eyes nevertheless. It’s brighter outside than it normally is when she wakes up - and Ted’s already up, this time. 

“How- what time’s it?” 

He glances at his phone on the nightstand. “Ten minutes ‘til breakfast.” 

“Shit. You- you could’ve woken me earlier.” 

“You looked peaceful, I didn’t want to. Plus, rule two, don’t wake you up if it’s not an emergency.” 

“This counts as an emergency,” she retorts as she sits up, rubbing her eyes. 

“Look, all we gotta do is get dressed and walk down the hall. That won’t take ten minutes.” 

“Ten isn’t enough.” She pushes herself out of bed, and he follows. “If we’re late, I swear-” 

“We won’t be.” 

All in all, they make it with a minute and twenty-two seconds to spare - Ted had timed them on his phone, promising not to brag when she notices him doing it. And although he inevitably does, she doesn’t find herself really caring enough to mention it. 

Surprisingly, the events of the night before haven’t caught up with her yet. Not nearly as much guilt as she had been expecting, and no regret at all. She had felt… free, almost. Definitely younger somehow, rebellious. It’s not a feeling she’ll get again, she knows that much. But the moment was nice. 

Charlotte pretends not to see Bill at his normal table as they get their food. “Where did you sit the other days?” 

He leads her to a small table in a corner, one made for two. It’s by a window, though, which is nice, the sun pouring down onto them as they approach. “Sat by myself.” 

“Oh. I- I’m sorry.” 

He shrugs, pulling out a chair and sitting. She does the same as he talks. “It’s fine. I'm used to it, anyway.” 

“Me too, heh. But it’s still not fun.” It’s nice to say it out loud, for once. To admit to both herself and someone else that she misses feeling wanted. 

She gives him a small smile - slightly sad, maybe, but kind nonetheless. He returns it with one of his own. “So, uh, how’d you find the trip?” he asks as she picks at a cheap pastry. 

“Good,” she replies. Nondescript, sure, but it’s somewhat true. 

“Really? Survived the nightmare of rooming with me?” 

She looks up from her plate at that, nervously scanning his face. It hasn’t really changed, not much that she can tell, but there’s something. Hurt, maybe, somehow. Hurt requires care first, though, and that’s something she doubts he has for her. After all, why would he? She’d be a fool to hope so. 

Some part of her is a fool, then. Because she does hope so. And there must be a reason why he had kissed her back. All she can really do is hope it wasn’t lust. 

“I heard you guys in the break room, y’know,” he continues. 

Oh. _Oh._

So that’s why he had been kind to her, then. To prove some kind of point, to show that he wouldn’t ruin the trip for her. As disappointing as that is, it definitely makes more sense than him caring - she never should have even considered that as a possibility. 

“Oh, no, I- I shouldn’t have said any of that. And I didn’t really mean it, I was just- just slightly worried, is all.” 

“Nah, I get it. I’m a dick, sure, but only when I have a reason to be. And maybe around Bill and idiots like that, I do, but I’ve got no reason to be when it’s just you.” 

“Huh. I- thank you.” He nods in reply, and there’s an awkward pause that stretches for a few moments. “I’m sorry, though. You’re a nice person, really.” 

Ted scoffs. 

“No, I mean it. You’ve been perfectly nice as long as we’ve been here.” 

He opens his mouth as if to argue, but closes it again after a couple of seconds, merely nodding. She takes that as some sort of acknowledgement, and nods back. 

And it’s… it’s okay. 

\--- 

The drive back is as long as ever, and Ted’s still stuck on a different bus to hers. But the quiet’s nice, a good opportunity to somewhat sort out her thoughts. 

The regret’s starting to emerge now, definitely. The sin she’s committed, the vows she’s betrayed. She glances down to the ring that’s supposed to mean loyalty, faithfulness, the ring that’s weighing down her finger. She’s Sam’s, not Ted’s - that’s how it should be, and how it should stay. 

But is she Sam’s, is she really? Should being his really mean touches quickly withdrawn, excuses made for every commitment, clutching her pillow until her knuckles turn white instead of having someone there? She’s tried so hard to be what Sam wants, but nothing ever seems to be enough. 

She was what Ted wanted, though - at least, for a moment. She can almost still feel his lips on hers, the rise and fall of his chest close to her, the surprising warmth behind his eyes that she managed to get glimpses of. 

Maybe she was only what he wanted for a split second. But that’s more than Sam’s given her in months. And she’ll hold onto the touch of the past couple of days for as long as she can still feel it. 

She and Ted should definitely talk when they get back to the office, though. She needs to tell him that it was a one-time thing, that he can’t mention it to anyone, that it was a mistake on both of their parts. But she can’t find him in the hubbub of the office, so she ends up in a corner, watching once more, hoping he’ll show up soon. 

And he does, eventually, two coffee cups in hand. He went to Beanies for himself and Paul, she figures. But she’s pleasantly surprised when he heads over to her. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t really have to. Just hands over the cup, leans against the wall next to her and watches as people talk. Soon, they’ll all be shooed back to their desks - but for as long as Mr Davidson is mingling among the crowds, they’re okay. 

She takes a sip with a small smile, a silent thank you as he looks to her. And, hey, he got her order perfect this time. 

Maybe things aren’t so bad. 

\--- 

That trip was one of Ted’s first at CCRP. A lot happened in the years following. A lot of fights and tears, secrets and stolen nights, shitty alcohol and cheap cigarettes.  
Many things Charlotte would rather forget. 

But that’s not what’s important right now. And it’s not what defines them anymore. 

They lie intertwined on the bed, _their_ bed, the light of the moon shining through the slit in the curtains and casting the room in a pale glow. It’s quite late, considering they had fallen into bed only a few minutes before - it was movie night, per Charlotte’s request. She had cried three times by the time _Marley & Me_ was over, and even though he denied it, she saw Ted wipe his eyes too. 

Now it’s just peaceful, as the sleepy but not quite tired pair lie in the quiet. Ted eventually breaks it, his voice low and soft. 

“Hey, Lottie?” She hums in response, and he continues. “I’ve got a confession to make. And it’s nothing bad, but promise not to get mad at me, okay?” 

She shifts slightly to get a better view of his face in the moon’s light, confused. “If it’s not a bad thing, why would I get mad?” 

He shakes his head. “Nope. Promise.” 

“Okay, okay, I won’t be mad.” 

There’s a moment’s pause as she notices him take a breath. “D’you remember the first work trip we had to share a room for? And we thought our room was gonna have two beds, and it didn’t?” 

“‘Course I do. Lucky coincidence, huh?” 

“Heh, yeah. But I- I was happy about it. _Really_ happy. And I knew you had a husband, but I still was.” 

“I-” 

“And I _know_ that was a shitty thing to feel, and I shouldn’t’ve, but I did anyway. And I was hoping you’d want to share the bed, and it was all just… I dunno. But it worked out well if you ask me, I- I just wanted to get that off my chest.” 

She doesn’t really say anything for a few moments. He’s right: he definitely shouldn’t have felt that way. Ignoring the fact that she had been married, he had no reason to - she’s only just worth it now, and wasn’t at all back then. It makes no sense, not really. 

He’s also right about it working out okay, though. Because there’s still problems, of course there are - but there are far fewer now. 

“I- I was married,” she eventually manages to stammer out, uselessly. 

“We sorted that, though, didn’t we?” 

Admittedly, yes, they did. And she can’t say she misses the ring. “But- I don’t- you could’ve gotten in trouble if someone knew we were sleeping in the same bed, Ted! And for what?” 

“For you, why else? I cared about you, even back then. I- I wanted you to know that, I s’pose. And I could tell you didn’t hear that kind of shit often, and you deserved to.” 

He’s said that she deserves care before, of course. But every time there’s still that rush of warmth to her cheeks, fingertips, chest. It was definitely not the best way he could’ve shown that care - but at the time, she had felt it all the same. And she’s had no reason to doubt his affection for months now. 

“But what if- if I’d not let you into the bed?” 

He shrugs simply. “I would’ve stayed on the couch.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

She nods a couple of times, more for herself than him, before resting her head on his chest once more, letting her eyes drift closed. “I… I’m not mad, and I’ve got some more questions. But ‘m tired, so... tomorrow?” 

He hums in agreement, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Sure, tomorrow works. And, uh, thank you. For- for letting me in, back then.” 

She smiles softly. “I’m glad I did.” 

And then, for a moment, there’s quiet. Gentle, peaceful, calm. Perfect. 

“Night, Char.” 

“Night, Teddy.” 

“Love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

**Author's Note:**

> i just think they're neat  
> so anyways, y'all should check out venus's writing because she's amazing, the goddess of charted


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